


Get Your Sexy Out

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Crack, Humor, Kakashi's Bad Decisions, M/M, Naruto's Questionable Tactics, Oh No He's Hot, Romance, Sakura is only mentioned, but it's all her fault anyway, lists are always the answer, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naruto is hot. Kakashi is losing his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Sexy Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Red_Hot_Holly_Berries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Hot_Holly_Berries/gifts).



> The title is Holly’s fault, btw. I asked her to stop me, because drunk!me thought it was a great idea. She failed. Moreover, she enabled. (It’s from Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack, for reference.)

The realization that Naruto is eighteen, a human male, and actually desirable comes as more of a shock than it likely should.

…By which Kakashi mostly means that he strolls into a training ground one fine summer day, blissfully unaware of the nosedive his life is about to take, and decides that of all the jutsus in his arsenal, he’d really prefer to work on his Suiton. Sakura had mentioned that he was getting a little sloppy with them, after all, and he has a reputation to maintain.

This, Kakashi later identifies, is the point where everything starts to head south.

Seeing as he’s not the Nidaime with his ability to pull water out of thin air—though, as far as that goes, there used to be _rumors_ about his grandmother and Senju Tobirama, and it’s not like white hair is very common in Konoha, so who actually knows—and he’s not his overly self-flagellating younger self who would draw water up from the ground just to make things harder for himself, Kakashi heads for the river. His hands are in his pockets, a whistle is on his lips, and he’s very much not thinking about the massive stack of paperwork he left on his desk for Iruka to find. (Well. Maybe he’s thinking about it a _little_ , but Iruka's cute when he’s angry.)

He hits the bank with the only thing on his mind how he can make Iruka's face turn that particular fetching shade of plum, and is faintly surprised to find a familiar orange jacket and black shirt tossed carelessly on the rocks. There's none of the other signs of widespread destruction that usually accompanies Naruto's training, so he’d rather thought he was alone. For a moment, he debates leaving Naruto in peace and finding somewhere else to work out.

Then a shape breaks the surface of the water, and for one fractured fragment of a startled heartbeat all Kakashi can see are _muscles_. Sleek, lithe, lovely, _gorgeous_ muscles covered by almost unblemished golden skin, glistening with sluicing water that gilds rather than conceals.

Deft, tanned hands rise, flexing groups of muscles in that handsome back that Kakashi just wants to _bite_ , and smooth through water-darkened hair, shoving it back and brushing water away in the same movement. Stray droplets tumble away, scattering down toned planes and sliding gleefully over the sharp jut of hipbones to vanish back into the rippling water, low enough that Kakashi can't tell if this man is wearing anything else or not.

He votes not, if he has any say in the matter. Or can get one.

A satisfied sigh, and the man shakes his head, sending more drops scattering around him, then reaches down with one hand to trace lazily through the meandering river. Another sweep of those hands, brushing excess water off chiseled sides and the all-too-tempting dip of his back above a truly remarkable ass—and that’s with Kakashi only seeing a small fraction of it—and then he starts to turn.

Kakashi waits with bated breath, eye transfixed. He’s fairly certain he’s found the next God of Shinobi. And even if he hasn’t, he is _more_ than happy to get down and worship.

And then sunlight catches on angled cheekbones, slides over three long marks like whiskers emblazoned there, and blue eyes brighten with a sun-warm smile.

“Oh, hey, Kakashi-sensei! Did you want to swim, too?” Naruto asks cheerfully, entirely oblivious to the way Kakashi’s brain is suddenly leaking out his ears. He scoops up a handful of water and absently splashes it over his shoulder, where it trickles down over toned pecs, lingers by brown nipples hardening in the air, and keeps going down towards defined abs. Kakashi approves of that path, and kind of wants to follow those droplets. With his _tongue_. Maybe his teeth. Maybe—

 _Abort_ , Kakashi's brain belatedly warns him. _Abort, abort, ABORT_.

“Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto repeats, sounding a little baffled, and tilts his head a bit. It throws the long, tempting line of his neck into sharp relief, and Kakashi's brain gives up on its halfhearted attempt to stop this train wreck, plunging significantly lower in regards to his anatomy.

It helps nothing at all that what Kakashi really wants to do is sink his teeth into that pretty tanned throat, press himself up against Naruto, feel Naruto push against him in return. Wants hands on him, and his hands on all that lovely skin, wants his name said in an entirely different manner, maybe interspersed with a few sounds like _ah, ah, ah_ —

Oh god.

Horror rising now, until it’s _almost_ equal to the lust, Kakashi takes the only option open to him.

He flees like a coward.

Strategic retreat, he tells himself desperately as he drags his body in through his wedged-open window, though it still feels like running. It wasn’t, because he needed to regroup, find higher ground, preferably somewhere nice and private where he could take care of that one problem that’s currently testing the limits of even Kakashi's slouchy-casual clothes—

No. No, no, no. This is a _terrible_ idea, even to contemplate. _So_ terrible. There are whole reams of reasons why this not a thought Kakashi should be entertaining. _Lists_ of reasons. Kakashi can name them. Kakashi can _write_ them. And he will. That’s good. That’s _genius_. Then Kakashi can carry said list around, and the next time Naruto takes off his shirt or bends over in front of Kakashi's desk the way he seems to be doing so often now that Kakashi thinks about it—

 _Anyway_. Then Kakashi can whip out his handy list, read it over, and remind himself of all the truly fantastic reasons why kissing the sense out of his one-time student is a bad idea all around.

Decided, Kakashi heads for desk, grabs a pen and the first piece of paper he sees—surely that letter from the Mizukage isn’t _that_ important—and scrawls at the top **_Reasons Why This is Your Worst Idea Ever (No Really) :_**

Slightly overdramatic, possibly, but Kakashi just popped a stiffy at the sight of his former student frolicking in the river. There is not enough overreaction in the _world_ for what Kakashi is feeling right now. Still, that makes number one easy.

  1. _The age difference, you massive pervert_



Kakashi pauses, staring at that. Not overly helpful, since he’s never particularly _minded_ being called a pervert before—it’s kind of like a badge of honor carried in memory of Jiraiya, who was an inspiration to perverts everywhere. And, even beyond that, the excuse doesn’t hold much water. Naruto is eighteen now. Even for a civilian, that would be of age. For a shinobi, who is considered an adult the moment they graduate the Academy, eighteen is practically in the middle of his career. Also, you definitely wouldn’t know just looking at him that he was still a teenager, and fourteen years isn’t _that_ big of a gap—

Whacking his head on the desk one more time for good measure, Kakashi gropes for—

Poor choice of words. It brings to mind the way Naruto perched on the edge of his desk yesterday, leaning in, and the sun caught in his hair, his smile, the curve of his shoulder where his shirt fell away—

 _Poor choice of words._ Kakashi _searches_ for another reason. No groping involved. None.

  1. _Sakura will murder you_. _And if she doesn’t, Tsunade **definitely** will._



Very true. Sakura has definite notions of propriety, and Naruto might as well be her brother. She is also terrifying. Tsunade doubly so, if only because she’s had more life experience and is therefore _meaner_.

Relieved that this is working, Kakashi moves on to the next one.

  1. _Former student. Don’t even think about it._



Except—damn it. Except he’s a _former_ student, rather than current. There are no regulations that Kakashi has ever come across about previous positions mattering at all except when they're still current. And Kakashi looked. Not for himself, of course—of course not—but just… out of curiosity. Innocent interest. He had some time to kill one day, and the regulations book was _there_ , and…

No need to defend himself, Kakashi think firmly. All innocent back then. Now is a different matter, and to convince himself it’s still not—that it’s just _not going to happen_ , he jots down the next reason that comes to mind.

  1. _Minato will also murder you, even if to do it he has to come back as a zombie. Again._



A trickle of cold sweat beads down Kakashi's spine. That is—that is a very good deterrent. Minato-sensei was bright and cheerful and sweet and a bit of a goof, especially around his wife, but Kakashi had also seen him cut down swathes of enemy shinobi as casually as a farmer might cut down wheat.

Another fantastic deterrent. And—

Kakashi pales a little as he takes the obvious next step, and he stares down at his list for a moment, trying to gather the courage to so much as write the name. It takes a few minutes.

  1. _Kushina_



With a faint shudder, Kakashi puts down his pen and rubs his hands over his face. Yeah. Enough said.

Minato was scary. Kushina was _terrifying_. Just the thoughts that he’s been entertaining make Kakashi halfheartedly wonder if he can't copy Orochimaru’s body-switching jutsu and just avoid the Pure Land for the rest of forever.

It’s Naruto, though. Naruto who Kakashi has failed so many times, but who loves him anyway. Naruto, who’s brighter and kinder than anyone, regardless of how hard his life has been. Naruto, who looks like—

Naruto, who’s probably not even interested, Kakashi corrects himself, firmly steering his mind away from more dangerous territory. The excessive Icha Icha reading is a handicap in this; Kakashi has a _vivid_ imagination, and his brain has no compunctions about putting it to use.

With a sound of pitiful despair, Kakashi fixes his eyes on the list, committing it to memory. Easy enough, with only five items. Horrifying items, but still. There are more reasons Kakashi could think of not to even _attempt_ to flirt with Naruto, but these—these are pretty convincing as it is.

And then, of course, there's a knock on the door.

Kakashi blinks at the entryway in surprise. People don’t visit his apartment; they're fully aware that he’s much more likely to be out and about somewhere, or in the Hokage's office. Those who do tend to come in through the window so he doesn’t have the chance to ignore them.

Normally, Kakashi would do just that. Today, however, he’s more than ready for a distraction of any sort (except for paperwork, obviously), so he gladly pushes out of his chair and goes to open it.

(Another mistake, in hindsight. Oh glorious hindsight.)

“Hey, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto says cheerfully. There's still water dripping from his dark gold hair, and his black tee-shirt is clinging _indecently_ to his wet muscles. Kakashi has never before had cause to be jealous of a shirt, but he’s off to a pretty good start with this one.

Some god, Kakashi thinks despairingly, hates him very, very much.

“Naruto,” he says, and manages to make it sound lazy and unconcerned through ingrained habit more than anything. “I thought you were swimming.”

Naruto grins at him, that fox-sly one Kakashi is more than a little wary of. “Well yeah,” he offers, and that tone is implying all _sorts_ of things it has no business implying at all. He waves a finger at his face, and if anything his grin gets wider. “Your nose was bleeding.”

Correction: _every_ god must hate him very, _very_ much.

“Oh?” Kakashi asks, sweating a little, though he tries to keep his tone casual. “You see, there was this one part in Icha Icha—”

Naruto's expression is amused, but also unimpressed. In a blur, he leaps, and despite thirty years of shinobi training Kakashi is caught entirely off guard. He lands flat on his back with Naruto perched astride his hips, beaming down at him.

“Sakura _told_ me that would work,” he says cheerfully. “All the other things she suggested didn’t, so I guess you're really dense, Kakashi-sensei.”

It’s maybe a little possible that Kakashi is struck entirely speechless, that thought unable to compute. Sakura? Conspiring with Naruto? _Planning_ all of this?

He’s going to protest. He really, definitely, one hundred percent remembers the list and can name at least five reasons this is the worst idea ever. He just—needs to stop kissing Naruto first.

(Spoiler: he doesn’t.)

(So maybe his reasons weren’t all that solid to begin with. Somehow, Kakashi is rather finding that he doesn’t mind.)


End file.
